Where am I from...
I am from plaits & pony-tails, from Weetbix and Milo.
I am from long driveways & Cul de sacs,
creeks, patios & carports, sheet-cubbies, swinging from monkey bars,
kids on bikes, no shoes & the smell of freshly mown grass on a Sunday morning.
I am from pansies along footpaths, pebbles in pockets, Pohutukawa on beaches,
violets and volcanoes.
I am from long driveways & Cul de sacs,
creeks, patios & carports, sheet-cubbies, swinging from monkey bars,
kids on bikes, no shoes & the smell of freshly mown grass on a Sunday morning.
I am from pansies along footpaths, pebbles in pockets, Pohutukawa on beaches,
violets and volcanoes.
I am from bowls of Grannies trifle, laughing in the face of disaster, from Ruby & Ted and Miri & Gibby
and Stella.
I am from sewn, knitted & crocheted clothes, lemonade iceblocks when you’re sick. From, do unto others as you would have them do unto you
and Mickey Mouse lives in derelict houses on the side of hills.
I am from trips to the beach after Sunday School, heritage lost through misunderstanding. I'm from the land of the long white cloud, whale riders and farmers,
sand in my salad, meat with 3 veg.
From the Tiki thrown away by Hiki & the bad luck that followed,
the twin girl they called Darkie who wasn’t meant to survive and out lived them all,
a little brother setting light to the hay shed with his toilet paper cigarettes.
I am from memories & stories, cups of tea,
photos & buttons in suitcases under the bed, Grannies voice in a safe place,
treasures that you can’t take with you which are kept & shared.
and Stella.
I am from sewn, knitted & crocheted clothes, lemonade iceblocks when you’re sick. From, do unto others as you would have them do unto you
and Mickey Mouse lives in derelict houses on the side of hills.
I am from trips to the beach after Sunday School, heritage lost through misunderstanding. I'm from the land of the long white cloud, whale riders and farmers,
sand in my salad, meat with 3 veg.
From the Tiki thrown away by Hiki & the bad luck that followed,
the twin girl they called Darkie who wasn’t meant to survive and out lived them all,
a little brother setting light to the hay shed with his toilet paper cigarettes.
I am from memories & stories, cups of tea,
photos & buttons in suitcases under the bed, Grannies voice in a safe place,
treasures that you can’t take with you which are kept & shared.
 |
| Me 8yrs |
While having a little downtime yesterday I came across this writing exercise and thought you might like to give it go. If you do please let me know so I can share where you're from.
It was the strangest thing - everytime I went to write something it was me at 8 doing so.
You bought a tear to my eye, what you have written is beautiful.... Mel xxx
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean. The process was extremely thought provoking and I was amazed at how much I couldn't find words for - it wasn't easy to write but the outcome is so powerful.
ReplyDeleteI hope you'll give it a go.
it's all there in your face...fully loved and motivated in a world that still had some "good old fashioned". I hope that the carrying forward of your giftings will motivate new generations to watch over the good of the past.
ReplyDeleteVery powerful ... will give it a try if only to see what happens - I am also from the 'long white cloud' I have similar memories
ReplyDeleteto you but ones that are my own. A big thank you also for my reinvented top! I love it! :) Leanne Best
Carolyn - this is possibly my favourite photo from childhood - I still have a strong memory of the moment this was taken.
ReplyDeleteLeanne - I hope you will share yours once you complete it.
Glad you like your top.